Backyard Mafia
by Ms Western Ink
Summary: AU. Kidnapped? Her? What, who was that guy in the suit?


**Backyard Mafia**

**Part I**

* * *

She moaned weakly, blinking her eyes open.

Her chest hurt.

What happened?

Oh! That's right! Someone had hit her! Now she remembered. Bastard, wait till she got her hands on him and -

She blinked. Oh, crap! She was... taped to a chair. She mumbled angry words against the tape across her mouth and struggled against her bonds.

Duct tape, across her forearms too. Ouch, that was going to pull when it came off and it was going to hurt.

Where was she? This wasn't her house. It was a nice house though, a bit dim, she thought critically. She didn't see any water stains on the ceiling, no holes in the floor.

Well, she didn't know if it was a house or not. It was a room. A bit sparse, and a lot of white. What was with all the white?

A white couch, a white floor, beyond her shoulder she could see a big, white desk.

"Cease your movement. You aren't going anywhere."

She turned her head, the tape choking her gasp. Who the hell was that?

Wow, he was gorgeous! Sparkling blue eyes and that strong profile and oh, wow look at that mouth!

And so tall... She hadn't seen a man so gorgeous... ever, actually. Men like that graced magazine covers and only dated women with unhealthy figures, pale colored hair and big, fake breasts. Was she bitter? Maybe she was drugged? Maybe she just wanted some big fake breasts too. Yeah, maybe she _was_ drugged.

She glanced him over from head to toe, assessing him. He was beautiful, no denying that. Dressed from head to toe in a perfect, white suit. Wow. He must like the color, she thought. That or he had a really unhealthy obsession. Obsessions with the color white could be a bad thing. What if he had one of those purity fixes and craved virgins or something? She cringed at the thought. Maybe she was just a pawn destined to be sacrificed to his sexual deviation?

She started to wiggle against her bonds, almost tipping her chair in the struggle.

"Cute kid."

She screamed against the tape across her mouth futilely at the comment. The voice belonging to another.

Who the hell did that guy think he was, calling her a kid. Bastard. Wait till she got her hands on **him**!

"I don't think she likes that."

Laughter drew her eye in another direction.

Damn. How many men were in here? Surely they hadn't kidnapped her for perverted reasons other than the virgin thing?

Oh! Her beauty strikes again! Men just couldn't resist, she thought smugly. Of course, that wasn't exactly a good thing, she thought, her mental dance ceasing. Ha! She didn't even _need_ the big fake breasts!

"Don't let your imagination run away with you, Ikebachi. You'll be returning home as soon as your father pays up."

Ikebachi? Who the hell was that? Was he talking to _her_? He was looking right at her. She shot him a quizzical look, and it must have registered as something unusual because he came forward and pulled the tape from across her mouth.

"Youch! No need to be so rough," she mumbled, unhappily. "Well, blundering idiots strike again, this is just like a movie. Oww, my lips are numb. Anyway, I'm not 'Ikebachi. As though someone as beautiful as me would have such an ugly name."

She heard some vague snickering in the background. His eyes turned sharply upwards and she heard someone backing away.

"Is that so? Who are you, then?"

He didn't even look back down at her.

She shrugged as best as she could. "I don't see why I should tell you that."

"You're alone, tied to a chair in an abandoned house with five men. You don't think you should tell me?"

She tossed him a look, pursing her lips. "I'm gonna call you _Captor-san_, although Captor-chan would be much funnier."

She giggled to herself, not noticing the slight downward twitch of his eyebrows.

"Really, Captor-san, to threaten such a nice, _beautiful _girl like me? What a brute, you are. You must not get out much. Oh, I bet you attract women with beady, shallow personalities. Eyes like rats, you know, attracted to shiny things. That's really too bad, I feel sorry for you."

His eyebrow twitched again.

"You wish to imply I _won't_ get the information I desire, child?"

She growled momentarily. "That's cute, Captor-san, using my techniques against me, but it won't work. I'm know I'm small and adorable, but do contain yourself."

She flashed him a bright smile.

More laughter in the background.

"Either she's just exceptionally cute or not very smart."

She glanced back as another approached. The ivory white mask caused her pause. Who was this?

"No. It is impossible, this is definitely her," the masked man answered.

"Hey! I don't know who 'her' is, but 'her' isn't me!" she protested.

"I see. So she's playing with us."

Misao swallowed hard. Who were these people? Were they really dangerous? Did they really think she was this girl, Ikebachi?

How could anyone confuse her for someone else? Her? Makimachi Misao?

She pulled her courage in tight and refused to give way to her fear. "Well when Ikebachi's father scoffs at you and tells him his daughter is home, safe. I'll be laughing cause-" She dropped off as the distinct opening tunes of Mozart 40 began to play from the local vicinity of her backpack.

Damn! What a time for a phone call. Wait a sec, who was calling her at this hour? Wait, what hour was it?

She loved that song, so soothing so... She struggled, but the bag was on the floor leaning against the back of the chair leg and she couldn't reach it with her hands tied.

The ivory masked man pulled the cell phone from the bag and tossed it to the other man. The 'Aoshi-sama'.

He glanced at the display and pressed the call button.

"Hello? . . . " Misao watched in horror as he answered her phone without qualm. "I'm sorry, 'Misao', isn't available at the moment... Yes, I'll be certain to tell her. Where exactly is that?"

She growled. Who was it? Who was he talking to?

"Aa, and what name would she pick that up under?"

She fought the restraints in her chair irritably.

"Aa, of course, my error."

His error, bah! This guy didn't make errors, she could tell by looking at him. There was victory in his eyes as he brought the phone down from his ear, pressing the end button without even glancing at the display.

Jerk.

"Makimachi Misao, is it?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you, no one likes a bragger?"

His response was a perfect, sexy grin that caused her to look down, moaning unhappily lest she melt at the very sight of him.

"Glory hog," she mumbled unhappily. "Anyway, that aside. You gonna let me go now, - oh! Wait one second there! Who was that? Who the hell told you, you could answer my phone without my permission? Consider yourself lucky I am tied to this chair, Captor-san! You deserve to be thrashed!"

He half shrugged. "Some kid to tell you that Enishi was looking for you, your prints were ready for pick up."

She smiled. "Oh, goodie! You going let me go now? Enishi gets testy when I'm late."

"I'll keep this."

She watched him tuck _her_ phone into his pocket and walk toward the door.

"Hey, I'm paying for that phone!" she called out, but he vanished out the door.

She growled, but didn't argue further as the others left her alone. She glanced around, the room didn't seem so dim anymore. She was definitely alone.

There didn't seem to be any cameras in the corners of the room, but with modern **technology** there could be a camera anywhere.

She began to struggle, trying to slip her fingers into the elastic sports band of her watch where she kept a small razor.

Her mother hadn't trained her for nothing. She grinned. Captor-san was in for a surprise when he found this room empty.

* * *

"That's definitely the girl from the photo, Aoshi-sama."

Aoshi turned slightly to view Hannya. "Someone switched Ikebachi's photo with Makimachi's file. Go, find out who Makimachi Misao is."

* * *

Hours later, Hannya had found out.

"Makimachi Misao is the daughter of Makimachi Yui, the business woman who made all her money in an architecture company located in Kobe. She moved to Tokyo earlier this year to attend an exclusive academy. Her mother still resides in Kobe, managing her business ventures. Makimachi's parents are divorced and her father hasn't been seen for many years, believed to live somewhere in the outskirts of Kyoto. He has no relationship with the girl.

"Makimachi herself is an A student, but a noted troublemaker. She's a star player on her school soccer team, but often gets into school yard fights. She's been threatened with expulsion three times and relations with her mother are strained because of her behavior. She is currently a student at the Kamiya Kassin Dojo, but what she learns there is unknown at present.

"She has no known boyfriend, but recently took a job as a model for Yukishiro Enishi."

"Yukishiro?" Aoshi drawled, surprised to hear the name of the young gangster he knew so well. "I thought he had given up pandering to Niu in Hong Kong, how unfortunate."

Niu was a gang leader in Hong Kong that Yukishiro had met many years previous. It had somehow come to the attention of Enishi that Niu liked pictures of questionably young girls in skimpy clothing. He did not know if Enishi had ever gone beyond the delicately sensual pictures with pouty mouths and flirty smiles. Niu was wanted in two foreign countries on counts of possession of child pornography, but whether Enishi himself had taken raunchy photos of youngsters could not be determined.

Enishi seemed rather harmless when it came to the girls as far as he'd seen thus far. He never went beyond a certain point of propriety. Most, when groveling at the feet of a rich madman, went as far as they could.

Hannya lowered his head. "What should I do about the girl?"

Aoshi sighed weakly. "Leave her for now."

The moment Hannya left, the phone began to ring. He listened to it once and then again before the shrill sound grated on his nerves and he reached for the receiver.

"Shinomori, answer your damn phone once in a while." The voice on the other end snapped. Aoshi recognized it immediately. "You have the girl?"

"Wrong one. Someone from your office switched the data and the photo with someone else's information." Aoshi answered, curious as to how his associate would take the news.

Silence was the immediately reply. After several seconds, he heard the distinct puff of a cigarette smoker and an deep exhale.

"Who _do_ you have?"

"Makimachi Misao."

"... Small girl, wild, long braided hair, big mouth, that match her?"

"Aa."

"Damn. Bring the girl to the 101 East End Building. Don't let her out of your sight. You lose her, you're in deep shit, got that?"

"She's important?"

"I'll explain when you get here."

* * *

Misao growled when she realized the door was locked. Figures. She had managed to finagle the razor in her watch band out and slice through the tape around her wrists and free herself.

She examined the white room noting the shade of everything inside was the exact same color.

Boring.

Peering around for security cameras, she headed for the desk. If they had any, they were probably so small she couldn't find them so she might as well check around for some kind of escape tool.

She pulled open the desk drawers one by one, but found only standard office equipment. Pencils, pens, paper clips, paper...

She sighed.

Boring.

In the side drawer she found files, but in them was nothing but a bunch of dried, pressed plants in neatly labeled manila folders. What was with this place?

The room was equally boring in decor, white from top to bottom. Grabbing a couple paper clips she headed over to the door, already unbending the shape of the small metal clip.

"Never give up!" she told herself.

It was time to learn how to lock pick.

* * *

Hannya frowned beneath his mask. Aoshi wanted the girl brought to the car. As he turned the corner, he noticed the locked door was slightly ajar. He froze in place and listened. Had she escaped and was sneaking around the building? Had someone visited her and been careless about closing it?

Silence.

He crept closer and silently pushed the door open, peering inside. Panicked eyes took note of the empty chair, the cut tape, the opened desk drawers, and, looking down, a scant littering of paperclips beneath his feet. Turning on his heel, he flew down the other corridor. The doors were all locked, but the window! There was one window that didn't lock. Most days, one couldn't even wrench it open. His entire jaw tensed as he saw it had been, in fact, opened. Paint chips littered the window sill. He ducked his head out and peered into the street. Left, nothing. Right, nothing. Not even a pedestrian with shopping bags. It was an empty street.

Whirling around, pounded on the nearest door and it was opened almost directly by a small man who was looking disgruntled at the interruption. Behind him, he spotted a woman sitting on the desk. "What?" Beshimi growled.

"The girl is missing. Tell Aoshi-sama **now**, I'm going after her."

"WHAT? What do you mean missing?" Beshimi shrieked, but Hannya had already launched himself out the window.

* * *

Misao ran. Her lungs ached, her throat hurt from the heavy panting, the deep inhalation of cold, dry air. She stopped and ducked herself into alley, plastering her back against the brick wall, panting.

Had she gotten far enough away? Where was she? How was she going to get home? She didn't even have any money and that guy had her freaking cell phone.

She growled.

She supposed she could try to call her mother but she was likely to launch into a lecture and not listen to her. Her mother _never_ listened to her and her father… who even knew where the hell he was, the loser.

She glanced around quickly. This was the most abandoned place she'd ever seen. She'd bet her shoes it was a bad neighborhood, how was she going to get out of it? she glanced up, nothing up there. She peered behind her into the alley to make sure no one unseemly was creeping up on her, but it was empty. Boxes, dumpsters were lined against the wall. There was litter at her feet.

Seeing a slight shadow, a bare shift of light she turned her head and her heart promptly leapt into her throat as she pressed her own cheek against the cold tip of the gun being leveled at her head.

"Quiet, Makimachi-san," he whispered, his voice sounding harsh.

"Oh… defeated," she murmured letting her eyes drop closed for a moment. "Are you going to kill me?"

She tried not to shake. She wasn't that weak, she thought, but she'd never had a man with a gun at her face before.

"No. You're going to step away from this wall and walk back to the house with me very quietly, very obediently. If you disobey me, I'll shoot you and I guarantee you won't die from it, save yourself the pain."

Well she didn't want to get shot, she thought bitterly. She obeyed without a word. He stepped up beside her, drew his arm around her tiny waist and slipped his hand into her pocket pressing the gun directly against her side.

Not kill her indeed. Who wanted to suffer a wound into the abdomen? What if he put a hole in her stomach? She'd never eat chocolate pudding again…

Oh!

This was not the time to be thinking about chocolate pudding. She frowned.

"So you're not just going to shoot me and leave me in an alley? If you are, just tell me and I'll make a run for it. I'd rather die fighting anyway."

"No one's going to kill you, Makimachi-san. I'm not an assassin."

"Oh?" she chanced a glance at his face only to see if covered by a Hannya mask. "What are you? A generic bad guy? A gangster? An evil genius? A henchman?"

He pressed her forward, not up the stairs of the house but to the car in front of it. he pulled open the door of the dark-tinted car and pushed her in. she almost tripped over the threshold. She was glad she didn't as she would've landed face first in the lap of the white-suit man and she had no desire to have her face in his crotch.

She frowned and crawled in obediently and then moved across the car to sit on the opposite side. She'd never been in a limo before.

The masked man stepped in and pulled the door shut and sat down beside her.

She turned her eyes away from the beautiful-suit man and toward the masked man.

"You never did answer my question."

"What question?" he asked without looking at her. His voice, she thought, was terribly monotone.

"What you are."

He turned his head down toward her and the movement was smooth and utterly creepy. She couldn't see anything of him through the mask. Didn't people think that was odd?

"You can call me Hannya. I am nothing more than that."

She glanced over the mask as if it would give her answers. "Do you say that to anyone who asks or is that what you really think of yourself?"

"Are you afraid, Makimachi-san?" he asked, crossing his arms. The gun was missing.

"Not as much as I was when you had your gun at my face." She turned her eyes to the man across from her. He hadn't changed clothes, he was still in all white. Even his shoes were white. Wow.

"Why are you wearing all white?"

For a long moment, they just stared at one another. "Don't you have more pertinent questions? Who am I? What am I going to do with you?"

"Isn't it better that I should ask questions you'll actually answer?" she replied bitterly. "Although, I do want my phone back when this fiasco ends."

He slipped a hand into his suit jacket and withdrew the pink cell and tossed it at her. She picked it up and stared at it astonishingly. He was… wait a second, why was it so light?

She looked up. "Did you take my battery?" He was holding it in his palm. She couldn't help herself, she laughed, she shook her head at the utter absurdity. "So, are you going to answer or not? What's with all the white?"

"I like it."

"Because it's rich or because it's clean?"

"…"

She explained without his asking. "My mother has white carpets all through the house. She doesn't like tatami mats and she thinks hardwood is too cold in the winter. So she put white carpet throughout the house, white furniture too. She thinks it impresses her visitors. So clean and wealthy looking."

"Does it impress you, Makimachi-san?"

She blinked. "Does what impress me? My mother's house or your clothes?"

"Either."

"No," she replied sourly. "I think it's stupid. You'd look much better in black, Captor-san."

His lips quirked just slightly.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he promised and she bit her lip.

"And you're not going to kill me?"

"No," the man in the suit answered.

"So." She paused. "What are you? He's Hannya, nothing beyond the mask… Are you a gangster? A terrorist? An assassin? A crime boss? A generic bad guy? You're not a henchman, not with those clothes."

"It doesn't matter who I am," he sedately answered. Just as she was about to protest, the car rolled to a stop. "We've arrived."

"Yeah, but arrived where," Misao murmured.

She was led from the car by Hannya. His gun, she noted, made another appearance in silent warning and she took careful note of it. the building was nondescript. It was old, it looked like an office building. The door chimed when they stepped in and Misao was assaulted with the overpowering scent of pine.

Captor-san was standing in front of her, so Misao peered around him. There was a big wooden desk and a woman. A secretary. Misao thought she looked like someone from a western movie with her hair all bundled up at the back of her head and the starched white shirt and weird framed glasses.

"Good afternoon- oh… Saitou-san is waiting for you in his office. Room 11 straight down the hall."

Captor-san followed her directions without comment and Hannya followed behind her. she didn't see the gun anymore but she knew he still had it so she obeyed quietly. When the hall dark man reached the doorway, he didn't knock, he pushed it open.

"Have any manners, there, Shinomori?" the man inside growled.

Shinomori? Was that Captor-san's name then?

Hannya urged her inside with a hand against her shoulder and Misao stepped in.

Another office, another desk, another man. He almost glared at her as he looked her over.

"So we finally meet face to face, Weasel. I've been waiting for this."

"W-weasel?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? What are you, a stalker?"

His lips quirked into a salacious grin. "Saitou Hajime, I've been keeping an eye on you for a very long time."

Misao stilled with nervousness. "So what are you? Hannya says he's not anyone, and Captor-san is Hannya's boss and they both insist they aren't anyone… Are you a no one too?"

"Shinomori is a contracted officer for this office. He… collects people. Hannya is one of men."

Why was he telling her that? Should she be worried?

"You're not going to say something corny and horrible like, 'if I tell you, I'll have to kill you', only do the telling part first, are you?"

The man with golden eyes, Saitou, stood, a smirk stretched over his lips. "Somebody's waiting to see you. Shinomori you're dismissed. Make yourself useful and go find Ikebachi."

Misao, with hesitance, parted from the men who had brought her and followed Saitou down the hall.

* * *

Aoshi stepped out of the office silently. The weight of the girls cell phone battery in his pocket was a heavy reminder of her. He still had her bag on the floor of his house, too. He wondered who the girl was…

He had no doubts that Saitou was taking her to see his boss and he wondered, why?

Who was Makimachi Misao to his employer?

With no basis for questioning, he turned and quickly left, Hannya at his side.

* * *

Down a hall and up a flight of stairs, and through yet another set of doors, she was ushered into another office. Inside, Misao found herself confronted by a person she hadn't seen in years. She gasped in surprise. A person she hadn't even _wanted_ to see…

"You," she murmured.

The man had dark hair and glinting eyes. They were bright. She would know the face anywhere no matter how long it had been. He looked exactly the same.

"What a greeting… Have you nothing better to say to me?"

She crossed her arms. "How about, I want to go home now I don't want to be here. I have stuff to do. I have school tomorrow, I can't be gallivanting around like this."

His eyes narrowed and she tensed just slightly.

"That's no way to speak to your father."

She scoffed. "Father indeed, what do you want?"

He leaned back in his leather chair. He looked like such a bad guy… She determined then that she'd watched way too many movies.

"Do you know why your mother and I divorced? Do you remember living with us?"

"All the screaming? Who could forget that? I always assumed you were too selfish to be married to each other, each one of you always wanting to get your own way. Then arguing over it all night. I'm glad you got divorced, I'd be insane now otherwise."

Her voice was bitter, she made no attempt to hide it. She hated those memories and sometimes she hated them for making her so miserable.

Her father smiled grimly at her. "True enough. That was part of the reason, the other reason is this: look around, do you now what this place is?"

She scowled. "Some nasty criminal enterprise that employs thugs like Hannya and Captor-san to do your dirty work on the streets?"

Oh yeah, _way_ too many movies.

Her father laughed and it was deep, rich sound. "Captor-san? Who the hell is that?" he asked, amusement still shining on his face.

"Saitou-san called him 'Shinomori.' I shall call him Captor-san until he tells me his name."

Her father sobered. He swiveled his chair toward the desk and laced his fingers together. "Like your mother, I am a businessman. I own gambling halls. Your mother used to call them 'gambling hells'."

"So, what? They run up debts and you have Captor-san kidnap their daughters until they pay?" she accused harshly.

"Nothing quite so vile, dearest. Ikebachi and his daughter owe me money. They like to play at the card tables."

"So they're just petty thugs who work for you."

"Shinomori is a talented young man, do not disparage him so. He has great promise. You have great potential, too. That's why I had you brought here. Have a seat, my dear."

She sat but made a great show of looking unhappy about it. "What do you want? Going to try to lure me into your dark network?"

He grinned at her. "You have quite the imagination, but you aren't wrong. I do want you here. I've always wanted you to come work for me."

"Sure, what's a bullet or two in the line of duty?"

"Enough," he chastised and her expression dimmed. "I can see your mother hasn't been spending much time with you, has she? Sending you off to live in Tokyo. Absolutely absurd. Living at that equally laughable academy. There isn't any discipline for you there. You will stay here, where you belong, with me. I have work for you to be doing."

"What if I don't want to stay here?" she challenged.

"It wouldn't take much to convince your mother you are far more trouble than your worth. You should know by now just how much your mother has come to value her money."

Misao's eyes grew stormy. She didn't need any reminders of that. She could still hear her mother shrieking at her to take off her "filthy shoes" in the parlor where they belonged and not to bring anymore of her "scruffy friends" to the house if they couldn't wash themselves properly. Cleanliness and wealth were all that mattered to her mother anymore and it only seemed to get worse the older she got.

"Fine," Misao mumbled. Better to look like she agreed than to face the consequences or her mother's wrath. Maybe this parent would be a good change for a while. Maybe she'd get to see Captor-san again.

"You're a good girl, Misao. Don't look so miserable, you'll have a good time here. You'll learn lots."

* * *

AN: My April SL challenge. This is actually really old, but with the kidnapping theme, I dragged it out. Is there more? Yes. I just haven't written it yet.


End file.
